from-the-firing-line dept.
In the Line of Fire is the sort of book that’s worth your money. For a book written by a President/Dictator still in power, its contents are truly unprecedented. For they may be inaccurate or colored to suit the author, but they do create a window into Pakistan and the mind of its leader, the irrepressible General Pervez Musharraf.
The book makes one thing crystal clear. Musharraf, when he was a baby, accidently fell into a cauldron of testosterone. If he didn’t, he sure wishes he had, and any statement, repeated oft enough, becomes true. So the book is an interesting documentation of the thinking process of an out-and-out alpha male.
It also serves a grim reminder, that it very easily could have been written by someone else. Musharraf has already survived two assassination attempts.
His description of the coup against Nawaz Sharif (or in his own words, the the counter coup) reads like something out of Forsyth or Ludlum (no, its not that bad actually). And here we see Musharraf preening his feathers and parading his plumage in all its smartness. When he describes how the coup was led by officers in command of various battalions around Pakistan, all appointed personally by him, from a pool of obseqious juniors and relatives, and all of this when he was incommunicado, in mid-air between Sri-Lanka and Pakistan, I couldn’t help visualizing a smirking Musharraf twirling his moustache and declaring triumphantly, “So who’s got the biggest one, eh?”
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
maximum-prejudice dept.
The book Maximum City by Suketu Mehta is a classic example of how amplified stereotypes and a healthy dose of prurience can sell like hot cakes. Suketu Mehta does a good job of caricaturing himself in the opening few pages. He is a non-resident Gujarati, returning to Mumbai to write a bestseller. He is surrounded by wealthy traders, who live in a ghetto-like apartment complex. For his subject matter, he targets either the grotesque, or the glamorous (sometimes, both at the same time). Right from the outset, his clear motive is to find the most senational, scandalous material and write a cheap paperback that’ll sell millions.
But here’s what really riled me up (apart form the fact that he’s a milllionare): Marathi to him, in his own words, is a language that sounds like beating a tin drum. Traditionally, this would get outfits like the Shiv-Sena and the Sambhaji Brigade to go on the rampage, attacking brokerage houses and over-turning Dhoklas and Gujarati Thalis. However, after I read about the Sena’s new approach, I decided to resort to a coherent, logical counter-argument to disprove Mr.Suketu’s** parochial notions about Maharashtrians and Marathi.
**(I thought of calling him Mr.Mehta, but that would just be a lot of noise to Google’s indexing engine. Besides, I didn’t want to confuse you into thinking this was an article on some stock-market scam. Also, I felt that ‘Mr.Suketu’ really brings out that sinister, diabolical, villainish aspect of him that I really want to highlight here)
The basis of my argument is this thesis: the sound of any language is best represented by its poetry. Here, at the poet’s disposal, lies the entire vocabulary of the language, and all the permutations within its complete syntactic, semantic and phonetic space. Clearly, conclusions we draw by reading some representative poems aloud would be based on a far more scientific base, than relying on the wholly unsubstantiated claims that Mr. Suketu makes .
So, here are a few lines from some Popular Modern*** Marathi poems. If you can read devanagri, just recite these lines aloud a few times, and don’t leave out the poets’ names either:
***(Popular Modern Marathi literature is anything published after 1857. Anything published after 1947 is Post-Modern. Beyond 1987, Marathi writing is rumored to exist but is possibly so avant-garde that it has not been published for the greater common good. The ‘Modern’ tag has to be applied selectively, though. For instance, any Marathi literature after 1857 that is actually read by Maharashtrians is just Popular Literature).
खादाड असे माझी भूक
चतकोराने मला न सूख
कूपांतील मी नच मंडूक
- कृष्णाजी केशव दामले (केशवसुत)
ऐल तटावर पैल तटावर हिरवाळी घेउन
निळासावळा झरा वाहतो बेटाबेटांतुन.
- त्र्यंबक बापूजी ठोंबरे (बालकवी)
पिपात मेले ओल्या उंदीर
माना पडल्या मुरगळल्याविण
- बाळ सिताराम मर्ढेकर
अंगणात गमले मजला, संपले बालपण माझे
खिडकीवर धुरकट तेंव्हा, कंदील एकटा होता
- माणिक गोडघाटे (ग्रेस)
झुक्-झुक्-झुक्-झुक् आगीन-गाडी, धुरांच्या रेषा हवेत काढी
पळती झाडे पाहुया, मामाच्या गावाला जाऊया…
- Unknown
Clearly, this sound is hardly anything as underwhelming as a tin drum. For me, its more evocative of the rolling thunder, an avalanche, Shivaji’s horsemen riding out of the Sahayadris or perhaps a fast local pulling out of Boribunder station. These judgments are subjective, of course, but surely no one will agree with Mr.Suketu’s wholly unsubstantiated claims.
This is another instance of outsiders getting the better of Maharashtrians, taking advantage of their generous and tolerant nature. Clearly the Marathi community has to up the ante a bit, and make its voice heard. Only then will other Indians take notice, and go: “Its a plane! Its a storm! Its a train! Naah, its just those Marathis talking…”
The book Maximum City by Suketu Mehta is a classic example of how amplified stereotypes and a healthy dose of prurience can sell like hot cakes. Suketu Mehta does a good job of caricaturing himself in the opening few pages. He is a non-resident Gujarati, returning to Mumbai to write a bestseller. He is surrounded by wealthy traders, who live in a ghetto-like apartment complex. For his subject matter, he targets either the grotesque, or the glamorous (sometimes, both at the same time). Right from the outset, his clear motive is to find the most senational, scandalous material and write a cheap paperback that’ll sell millions.
But here’s what really riled me up (apart form the fact that he’s a milllionare): Marathi to him, in his own words, is a language that sounds like beating a tin drum. Traditionally, this would get outfits like the Shiv-Sena and the Sambhaji Brigade to go on the rampage, attacking brokerage houses and over-turning Dhoklas and Gujarati Thalis. However, after I read about the Sena’s new approach, I decided to resort to a coherent, logical counter-argument to disprove Mr.Suketu’s** parochial notions about Maharashtrians and Marathi.
**(I thought of calling him Mr.Mehta, but that would just be a lot of noise to Google’s indexing engine. Besides, I didn’t want to confuse you into thinking this was an article on some stock-market scam. Also, I felt that ‘Mr.Suketu’ really brings out that sinister, diabolical, villainish aspect of him that I really want to highlight here)
The basis of my argument is this thesis: the sound of any language is best represented by its poetry. Here, at the poet’s disposal, lies the entire vocabulary of the language, and all the permutations within its complete syntactic, semantic and phonetic space. Clearly, conclusions we draw by reading some representative poems aloud would be based on a far more scientific base, than relying on the wholly unsubstantiated claims that Mr. Suketu makes .
So, here are a few lines from some Popular Modern*** Marathi poems. If you can read devanagri, just recite these lines aloud a few times, and don’t leave out the poets’ names either:
***(Popular Modern Marathi literature is anything published after 1857. Anything published after 1947 is Post-Modern. Beyond 1987, Marathi writing is rumored to exist but is possibly so avant-garde that it has not been published for the greater common good. The ‘Modern’ tag has to be applied selectively, though. For instance, any Marathi literature after 1857 that is actually read by Maharashtrians is just Popular Literature).
खादाड असे माझी भूक
चतकोराने मला न सूख
कूपांतील मी नच मंडूक
- कृष्णाजी केशव दामले (केशवसुत)
ऐल तटावर पैल तटावर हिरवाळी घेउन
निळासावळा झरा वाहतो बेटाबेटांतुन.
- त्र्यंबक बापूजी ठोंबरे (बालकवी)
पिपात मेले ओल्या उंदीर
माना पडल्या मुरगळल्याविण
- बाळ सिताराम मर्ढेकर
अंगणात गमले मजला, संपले बालपण माझे
खिडकीवर धुरकट तेंव्हा, कंदील एकटा होता
- माणिक गोडघाटे (ग्रेस)
झुक्-झुक्-झुक्-झुक् आगीन-गाडी, धुरांच्या रेषा हवेत काढी
पळती झाडे पाहुया, मामाच्या गावाला जाऊया…
- Unknown
Clearly, this sound is hardly anything as underwhelming as a tin drum. For me, its more evocative of the rolling thunder, an avalanche, Shivaji’s horsemen riding out of the Sahayadris or perhaps a fast local pulling out of Boribunder station. These judgments are subjective, of course, but surely no one will agree with Mr.Suketu’s wholly unsubstantiated claims.
This is another instance of outsiders getting the better of Maharashtrians, taking advantage of their generous and tolerant nature. Clearly the Marathi community has to up the ante a bit, and make its voice heard. Only then will other Indians take notice, and go: “Its a plane! Its a storm! Its a train! Naah, its just those Marathis talking…”
we-have-moved dept.
Not that you would care, but this blog has taken up new residence at:
http://l1w0lf.wordpress.com
Reason being mostly, Google's obdurate reluctance to add tag-based indexing to blogspot, and the general malaise that seems to afflict the blog search button at the top of the page. If I can't search what I have written myself, I can hardly expect the millions who hang on to my every word to do better.
Not that you would care, but this blog has taken up new residence at:
http://l1w0lf.wordpress.com
Reason being mostly, Google's obdurate reluctance to add tag-based indexing to blogspot, and the general malaise that seems to afflict the blog search button at the top of the page. If I can't search what I have written myself, I can hardly expect the millions who hang on to my every word to do better.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
karla dept.
Climb up on a hill, through winding narrow stone stairs
Feel the mingling of the sweat and the swearing
Under the breath, and the silence of a million thoughts
Overlaid by the thousand unsparing voices
Ashamed to add your own, out of place.
Fear the smell, foreign and unknown even in daylight
And the strange lingering expanse that preys on itself
You can hear the clamor and feel the gaudy lines
Stretching finitely before your eyes in ecstatic motion
That is not your destination.
Your destination is a hole in the wall behind it all.
Deserted by those who carved their souls into
heartless rock, Treaded by the curious soles of
those who feel lost, and yet find their way
Here, within these stone walls.
Climb up on a hill, through winding narrow stone stairs
Feel the mingling of the sweat and the swearing
Under the breath, and the silence of a million thoughts
Overlaid by the thousand unsparing voices
Ashamed to add your own, out of place.
Fear the smell, foreign and unknown even in daylight
And the strange lingering expanse that preys on itself
You can hear the clamor and feel the gaudy lines
Stretching finitely before your eyes in ecstatic motion
That is not your destination.
Your destination is a hole in the wall behind it all.
Deserted by those who carved their souls into
heartless rock, Treaded by the curious soles of
those who feel lost, and yet find their way
Here, within these stone walls.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
could've-been-verse dept.
This is a great poem I came across long ago while watching the Mel-Gibson-directed movie The Man Without A Face. The poem was written by a nineteen-year-old American Pilot named John Gillespie Magee, Jr. during World War II, only a few months before he died in a plane crash.
This is a great poem I came across long ago while watching the Mel-Gibson-directed movie The Man Without A Face. The poem was written by a nineteen-year-old American Pilot named John Gillespie Magee, Jr. during World War II, only a few months before he died in a plane crash.
High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
.tded-nevaeh-ot-yawriats
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all
Monday, May 01, 2006
old-stories dept.
I had read this really thrilling short story in school which I had been desperately seeking. I had forgotten the name of the author, and everything else but the name of one of the main characters -- Rainsford.
Finally located it today. The story is The Most Dangerous Game by American writer Richard Connell.
I had read this really thrilling short story in school which I had been desperately seeking. I had forgotten the name of the author, and everything else but the name of one of the main characters -- Rainsford.
Finally located it today. The story is The Most Dangerous Game by American writer Richard Connell.
Monday, April 24, 2006
quota-unquota dept.
Reservations may be on the cards for the private sector and IIT/IIMs. Leave aside the inevitable emotional outcry, I'm trying to understand the implications from a sociological point of view.
This may be a bad idea for small or fledgling companies. Most companies start out as ventures between friends, or families, many of them from the same community. It may be a good survival strategy during this nascency to depend on people you know and trust.
For larger companies, it may not make much of a difference. Most companies rely on the top 10% (just a figure with no empirical backing -- an intuitive guess) of the employees to do most of the decision making, and the rest mostly follow their lead. In such a case, apart from changing the demographics of the bottom 90%, reservations would really have no effect on the quality of output of the company.
Similarly for the IIT/IIMs, the difference will be in the racial/caste composition of the bottom 70-80% of graduates, and won't matter in the larger scheme of things.
So if you are high-caste, and of average ability, you have to make way for someone from a lower caste who is somewhere around the same level as you. Considering the fact that high-castes in India have been enjoying a monopoly on higher learning for centuries, you would expect their progeny to be more enterprising in keeping that lead by working harder.
Reservations may be on the cards for the private sector and IIT/IIMs. Leave aside the inevitable emotional outcry, I'm trying to understand the implications from a sociological point of view.
This may be a bad idea for small or fledgling companies. Most companies start out as ventures between friends, or families, many of them from the same community. It may be a good survival strategy during this nascency to depend on people you know and trust.
For larger companies, it may not make much of a difference. Most companies rely on the top 10% (just a figure with no empirical backing -- an intuitive guess) of the employees to do most of the decision making, and the rest mostly follow their lead. In such a case, apart from changing the demographics of the bottom 90%, reservations would really have no effect on the quality of output of the company.
Similarly for the IIT/IIMs, the difference will be in the racial/caste composition of the bottom 70-80% of graduates, and won't matter in the larger scheme of things.
So if you are high-caste, and of average ability, you have to make way for someone from a lower caste who is somewhere around the same level as you. Considering the fact that high-castes in India have been enjoying a monopoly on higher learning for centuries, you would expect their progeny to be more enterprising in keeping that lead by working harder.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
elegy-for-a-mogul dept.
This is the most interesting song I've heard for quite some time now -- Boom Like That from the recent album Shangri-La by Mark Knopfler. As usual, the music is smooth, and the guitar rocks. But its the wry, whimsical lyrics that really grabbed me. I couldn't figure them out at first - they seemed to be some sort of stream-of-consciousness juxtaposition of words at first. But the word 'Kroc' rang a bell, and I finally got it, thanks to a little help from this page in wikipedia, and this interview on NPR.
This is the most interesting song I've heard for quite some time now -- Boom Like That from the recent album Shangri-La by Mark Knopfler. As usual, the music is smooth, and the guitar rocks. But its the wry, whimsical lyrics that really grabbed me. I couldn't figure them out at first - they seemed to be some sort of stream-of-consciousness juxtaposition of words at first. But the word 'Kroc' rang a bell, and I finally got it, thanks to a little help from this page in wikipedia, and this interview on NPR.
Boom Like That
-- Mark Knopfler
I'm going to San Bernardino ring-a-ding-ding
Milkshake mix is thus my thing now
These guys bought a heap of my stuff
And I gotta see a good thing shooting up now
Folks line up all down the street
Now I am seeing this girl devour her meat now
And then I get it Wham as clear as day
My pulse begins to hammer then I hear a voice say
These boys have got this down ought to be one of these in every town
These boys have got the touch It's clean as a whistle and it don't cost much
Wham bam don't wait long, shake fries plenty of gum
How about that friendly name, heck, every little thing gotta stay the same
Or my name is not Kroc, that's Kroc with a K
A crocodile is not spelt that way now
It's Dog eat dog, rat eat rat
Kroc style - Boom like that
You gentlemen are to expand
You're gonna need a helping hand now
So gentlemen well what about me?
We'll make a little business history now
Well we'll build it up and I'll buy him out
The man they made me grind it out now
They open up a new place flippin meat
So I do too, right across the street
I got the main I need town, sell em' in the end and it all shuts down
Sometimes you gotta be an S.O.B. you wanna make a dream reality
Competition sent em south, they're gonna drown or we're hosing em' out
Do not pass go go straight to hell
I smell a lotta meat .....da smell
Or my name is not Kroc that's Kroc with a K
A crocodile is not spelt that way now
Ohh it's Dog eat Dog, Rat eat Rat
Dog eat Dog, Rat eat Rat now
Ohh it's Dog eat Dog, Rat eat Rat
Kroc style - Boom like that
Monday, April 17, 2006
Sunday, April 16, 2006
don-camillo dept.
When I was in school, we were handed a reading list of classics to first read and then write a book report on. But one of the most enjoyable books I read was one that my friend Gaurav Trivedi had picked -- Italian satirist Giovannino Guareschi's The Little World of Don Camillo.
It seems that someone called Vajrang Parvate has posted this book online -- with legal permission from Guareschi's children -- the current copyright holders. Guareschi was also a famed cartoonist, and its great to see his artwork available here too.
Looks like the links to the HTML versions of the stories don't work, but you can download a PDF of the book here. Other books in the Don Camillo series are also available on the site. I haven't read any of them, and haven't checked out the online versions either. These can be found here.
When I was in school, we were handed a reading list of classics to first read and then write a book report on. But one of the most enjoyable books I read was one that my friend Gaurav Trivedi had picked -- Italian satirist Giovannino Guareschi's The Little World of Don Camillo.
It seems that someone called Vajrang Parvate has posted this book online -- with legal permission from Guareschi's children -- the current copyright holders. Guareschi was also a famed cartoonist, and its great to see his artwork available here too.
Looks like the links to the HTML versions of the stories don't work, but you can download a PDF of the book here. Other books in the Don Camillo series are also available on the site. I haven't read any of them, and haven't checked out the online versions either. These can be found here.
boot-camp dept.
A lot of the A-list techno-bloggers in the blogosphere are speculating furiously over Apple's release of Boot Camp, a program that allows Intel-based Mac owners to dual boot OS X with other OSs. Robert X.Cringely has been the most imaginative, coming up with ever more fanciful ideas about the business logic behind Boot Camp.
Guess he doesn't have anything more interesting to write about.
Apple has a much more marginal market share than windows, as far as the personal computer market is concerned, and is never ever likely to prove a serious threat to the Windows/Intel juggernaut. Today their business is more about selling music, than about personal computers. My reasoning behind their releasing boot camp is much more mundane -- it is just an acceptance of market reality from Apple.
People have always run Windows applications on the Mac using VirtualPC. This is just a move to retain the market, and create another incentive to people who otherwise might shun apple hardware for compatibility reasons. So many people out there only buy Wintel machines because they *have to* use Windows software at work. So many games exist only for windows. Boot Camp will allow Apple to make inroads into that market, where people would buy Macs as high-performance PCs that run all the great mac applications out there *and* can run windows side-by-side.
The apple website recently linked to this story where XP benchmark results were compared for Apple hardware (Macbook Pro and the iMac -- wish they'd also covered the new iMac mini core duo) versus other high-end PC vendor machines. Apple either lead or was behind very marginally on most benchmark results.
A lot of the A-list techno-bloggers in the blogosphere are speculating furiously over Apple's release of Boot Camp, a program that allows Intel-based Mac owners to dual boot OS X with other OSs. Robert X.Cringely has been the most imaginative, coming up with ever more fanciful ideas about the business logic behind Boot Camp.
Guess he doesn't have anything more interesting to write about.
Apple has a much more marginal market share than windows, as far as the personal computer market is concerned, and is never ever likely to prove a serious threat to the Windows/Intel juggernaut. Today their business is more about selling music, than about personal computers. My reasoning behind their releasing boot camp is much more mundane -- it is just an acceptance of market reality from Apple.
People have always run Windows applications on the Mac using VirtualPC. This is just a move to retain the market, and create another incentive to people who otherwise might shun apple hardware for compatibility reasons. So many people out there only buy Wintel machines because they *have to* use Windows software at work. So many games exist only for windows. Boot Camp will allow Apple to make inroads into that market, where people would buy Macs as high-performance PCs that run all the great mac applications out there *and* can run windows side-by-side.
The apple website recently linked to this story where XP benchmark results were compared for Apple hardware (Macbook Pro and the iMac -- wish they'd also covered the new iMac mini core duo) versus other high-end PC vendor machines. Apple either lead or was behind very marginally on most benchmark results.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
evolutionary-mishaps dept.
Four million years ago, at the dawn of the age of the age that would belong to him, man mastered the art of tool-making.
With his tools, he tamed the world around him and created a food-surplus economy.
With the leisure that prosperity brings, he fought wars, persecuted, plotted and redeemed himself in equal measure.
Then to enliven this desperate struggle that is his life, he invented movies.
The thought that four million years of evolution led to Maalamaal weekly being made, can truly be depression-inducing, but I'm sure mankind has meandered before through evolutionary deadends.
However, a reviewing of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey can be a surprisingly effective cure.
Especially when supplemented by an elucidation of the subtext in that film.
Four million years ago, at the dawn of the age of the age that would belong to him, man mastered the art of tool-making.
With his tools, he tamed the world around him and created a food-surplus economy.
With the leisure that prosperity brings, he fought wars, persecuted, plotted and redeemed himself in equal measure.
Then to enliven this desperate struggle that is his life, he invented movies.
The thought that four million years of evolution led to Maalamaal weekly being made, can truly be depression-inducing, but I'm sure mankind has meandered before through evolutionary deadends.
However, a reviewing of the film 2001: A Space Odyssey can be a surprisingly effective cure.
Especially when supplemented by an elucidation of the subtext in that film.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
yet-another-review dept.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind is another Charlie Kaufman product. The same bizarre imagination that produced Being John Malkovich and Adaptation.
I have always been awestruck by this guy's wizardry with the art of plot-development (or should I say dismemberment?). Which reminds me of the time I bought a VCD of Being John Malkovich. I had a couple of (ahem) friends then, who had the temerity to borrow it and then to say that the movie was perverted to my face, loooking me over as if I were some decadent pervert myself.
Well, they were right, because I was blown away by both movies Kaufman wrote after that.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind is another Charlie Kaufman product. The same bizarre imagination that produced Being John Malkovich and Adaptation.
I have always been awestruck by this guy's wizardry with the art of plot-development (or should I say dismemberment?). Which reminds me of the time I bought a VCD of Being John Malkovich. I had a couple of (ahem) friends then, who had the temerity to borrow it and then to say that the movie was perverted to my face, loooking me over as if I were some decadent pervert myself.
Well, they were right, because I was blown away by both movies Kaufman wrote after that.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
crash dept.
I saw Crash last week. Not having seen many movies this year, I cannot compare it with the other contenders that competed with it for the Oscars.
The acting was great, and so was the tautness and structure of the movie. It was a bit intense and draining to sit through, but in a good way, because it engages and disturbs constantly.
The movie is very analytical and does not take a stand, which is a good thing -- I believe it really shows it like it is for many people, not just in LA, but any metropolis in the world that has communities and sub-communities living in their own miniature ghettos.
I saw Crash last week. Not having seen many movies this year, I cannot compare it with the other contenders that competed with it for the Oscars.
The acting was great, and so was the tautness and structure of the movie. It was a bit intense and draining to sit through, but in a good way, because it engages and disturbs constantly.
The movie is very analytical and does not take a stand, which is a good thing -- I believe it really shows it like it is for many people, not just in LA, but any metropolis in the world that has communities and sub-communities living in their own miniature ghettos.
Friday, March 17, 2006
गावठी कविता dept.
मन वढाय वढाय
उभ्या पीकातलं ढोर
किती हाकला हाकला
फिरी येतं पिकांवर
मन मोकाट मोकाट
त्याले ठायी ठायी वाटा
जशा वार्यानं चालल्या
पानावर्हल्यारे लाटा
मन लहरी लहरी
त्याले हाती धरे कोन?
उंडारलं उंडारलं
जसं वारा वाहादन
मन जह्यरी जह्यरी
याचं न्यारं रे तंतर
आरे, इचू, साप बरा
त्याले उतारे मंतर!
मन पाखरू पाखरू
त्याची काय सांगू मात?
आता व्हतं भुईवर
गेलं गेलं आभायात
मन चप्पय चप्पय
त्याले नही जरा धीर
तठे व्हयीसनी ईज
आलं आलं धर्तीवर
मन एवढं एवढं
जसा खाकसचा दाना
मन केवढं केवढं?
आभायात बी मायेना
देवा, कसं देलं मन
आसं नही दुनियात!
आसा कसा रे तू योगी
काय तुझी करामत!
देवा, आसं कसं मन?
आसं कसं रे घडलं
कुठे जागेपनी तूले
असं सपनं पडलं!
-- बहिणाबाई चौधरी
Monday, March 13, 2006
Saturday, March 11, 2006
buddha-mil-gaya dept.
Somehow, this day and this year, reminds me of that exquisitely lyrical book I read once: Siddhartha by Herman Hesse.
The part which affected me most (and the part which I think makes any reader of a certain disposition identify with the main character) was when Siddhartha encounters the Buddha, preaching to his followers. After the sermon, Siddhartha goes up to him and congratulates him on the wonderful symmetry and beauty of his philosophy, and the benefits it might potentially bring to any that adheres to it. But, he points out, it does not teach me how I myself might become the Buddha. The Buddha smiles, and agrees, and his answer is pretty much an apologetic, "Sorry son, but you have to find your own way in life".
The rest of the book and the part that precedes this point is suddenly all rendered superfluous. What follows, has to follow, and what has already transpired was inevitable. I wonder, why no one just told me that before I read the book.
In the book, Siddhartha explores renunciation, religion, philosophy, indulgence, ambition, and disillusionment. Eventually he settles on routine, plying a boat on a river and trying to keep his emotional state as ephemeral as the river water. He might as well have tried crack cocaine, but the technology of the day does not provide that convenience to him.
Somehow, in the course of my seeking, I would like to end up making smarter choices than Siddhartha made.
Somehow, this day and this year, reminds me of that exquisitely lyrical book I read once: Siddhartha by Herman Hesse.
The part which affected me most (and the part which I think makes any reader of a certain disposition identify with the main character) was when Siddhartha encounters the Buddha, preaching to his followers. After the sermon, Siddhartha goes up to him and congratulates him on the wonderful symmetry and beauty of his philosophy, and the benefits it might potentially bring to any that adheres to it. But, he points out, it does not teach me how I myself might become the Buddha. The Buddha smiles, and agrees, and his answer is pretty much an apologetic, "Sorry son, but you have to find your own way in life".
The rest of the book and the part that precedes this point is suddenly all rendered superfluous. What follows, has to follow, and what has already transpired was inevitable. I wonder, why no one just told me that before I read the book.
In the book, Siddhartha explores renunciation, religion, philosophy, indulgence, ambition, and disillusionment. Eventually he settles on routine, plying a boat on a river and trying to keep his emotional state as ephemeral as the river water. He might as well have tried crack cocaine, but the technology of the day does not provide that convenience to him.
Somehow, in the course of my seeking, I would like to end up making smarter choices than Siddhartha made.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
meter-down dept.
Taxi no. 9-2-11 is an interesting little hot-rod of the Ben Affleck, Samuel L. Jackson vehicle Changing Lanes. Its well-made, the performances are good all-round. But...the climax. the climax jars. It was a bit like taking a Porsche to get the groceries.
I mean there is nothing feasibly, ethically, morally or legally inconsistent in doing so, but a Porsche parked in a supermarket parking lot just violates the beauty and symmetry of nature, don't you think?
Taxi no. 9-2-11 is an interesting little hot-rod of the Ben Affleck, Samuel L. Jackson vehicle Changing Lanes. Its well-made, the performances are good all-round. But...the climax. the climax jars. It was a bit like taking a Porsche to get the groceries.
I mean there is nothing feasibly, ethically, morally or legally inconsistent in doing so, but a Porsche parked in a supermarket parking lot just violates the beauty and symmetry of nature, don't you think?
Saturday, February 25, 2006
tales-from-the-crypt dept.
Ambhi was really bored. It was his second day at work.
A meeting in the morning had petered out into nonsensical yawnings, and slashdot didn't have anything interesting either. There was no email. Oh, yeah, there was one from someone called Hanson Obuya, who was apparently, the governor of the Reserve Bank of Godwanaland.
Obuya had an interesting offer. Only, it wasn't so interesting.
Ambhi had wondered aloud what the per capita income and GDP of Godwanaland was, and had googled for it.
He was startled to learn that the economy was not all that hot in the Mesozoic Era.
Meticulously, he stared at the screen. Then with his left hand, brushed somebody's wafer crumbs from his desk and considered his next move.
Might as well start a blog, he thought.
Or I could fetch another biscuit.
The coffee-vending machine?
Thats a tough one.
Lets do this blog thingy.
He headed over to http://www.blogger.com, and registered.
He called it "Space Debris"***.
Subtitled it, "A Random, Virtual EVA into the nothingness of reality.".
His handle: "CaptainStarbucks".
*** Before settling on Space Debris, Ambhi also considered the following blog titles:
My 2 Cents, Inconsequential Warblings, Random Ruminations, Flotsam and Jetsam, Wandering Warbler, Alien Interloper.
Ambhi was really bored. It was his second day at work.
A meeting in the morning had petered out into nonsensical yawnings, and slashdot didn't have anything interesting either. There was no email. Oh, yeah, there was one from someone called Hanson Obuya, who was apparently, the governor of the Reserve Bank of Godwanaland.
Obuya had an interesting offer. Only, it wasn't so interesting.
Ambhi had wondered aloud what the per capita income and GDP of Godwanaland was, and had googled for it.
He was startled to learn that the economy was not all that hot in the Mesozoic Era.
Meticulously, he stared at the screen. Then with his left hand, brushed somebody's wafer crumbs from his desk and considered his next move.
Might as well start a blog, he thought.
Or I could fetch another biscuit.
The coffee-vending machine?
Thats a tough one.
Lets do this blog thingy.
He headed over to http://www.blogger.com, and registered.
He called it "Space Debris"***.
Subtitled it, "A Random, Virtual EVA into the nothingness of reality.".
His handle: "CaptainStarbucks".
Journal Entry 1, Stardate 22-02-2006 0930hrs
The computer failed yesterday. All systems are on manual control. I just ejected the hibernating crew.
I am all alone.
Journal Entry 2, Stardate 22-02-2006 1130hrs
I am still alone.
Journal Entry 3, Stardate 22-02-2006 1230hrs
My space suit is deflating. The cabin pressure is suspect.
I think an alien life-form is onboard this ship.
Journal Entry 3, Stardate 22-02-2006 1245hrs
False alarm for #1. It was my incontinence.
#2 still under investigation.
Journal Entry 4, Stardate 22-02-2006 1300hrs
Alien sighted. To do: Rendezvous with alien at 1400hrs, post-lunch.
Journal Entry 5, Stardate 22-02-2006 1500hrs
Rendezvous with Alien completed. Mission success depends on us getting along well.
Alien has long hands and huddles conspiratorially, talks in a low voice in an empty room.
Perhaps this is a cultural thing.
Who cares?
Journal Entry 6, Stardate 22-02-2006 1545hrs
An Alien Away Team has docked with the ship. Alien has friends.
They all look the same. Their language sounds like bird-warbling.
They don't talk much, except two who are really noisy.
When I say anything, they look at each other and then do some hushed warbling.
Journal Entry 7, Stardate 22-02-2006 1800hrs
Aliens have retreated to their mother ship.
Although we gesture, I do not yet comprehend their intentions.
I have christened their planet Gondwana.
This makes them, Gondwanians. Perhaps Gondwaners might be better.
The ship has been programmed with coordinates for the next few hours.
Time for some rest.
Sign out.
*** Before settling on Space Debris, Ambhi also considered the following blog titles:
My 2 Cents, Inconsequential Warblings, Random Ruminations, Flotsam and Jetsam, Wandering Warbler, Alien Interloper.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
coming-soon dept.
Shining, starring Jack Nicholson.
Brokeback to the Future, with Michael J.Fox and Christopher Lloyd.
Shining, starring Jack Nicholson.
Brokeback to the Future, with Michael J.Fox and Christopher Lloyd.
Monday, February 13, 2006
you've-got-mail dept.
What a lame title, but anyway, here goes...
Email clients are hitting their limits of scalability.
Now, I get almost a couple hundred small emails everyday, and keeping track of them is a nightmare.
Email traffic characteristics have fundamentally changed since I started working. Now they are almost instant messages, in form, mode of address, size and content. Most people seem to treat them as instant messages with more metadata tags and end-to-end archival built into the fabric.
I recently listened to the CEO of the company I work for mentioning that e-mail is a store and forward protocol, like physical mail, and that is the way he handles his email : read it once in the morning, once at lunch, and once in the evening, and don't look at it in between.
However, with disk, memory, processor and network bandwidth being what they are today, email is more like an instantaneous delivery system. And senders invariably expect recipients to respond instantaneously with at least an acknowledgement.
All of which basically makes my poor email client unable to cope. Now I have MacOS Tiger, so with Spotlight, my life is that much easier, but it only highlights how critical Desktop Search will be as an application in the next few years.
The trouble with mail clients is that they are still stuck in the 2-d, tabular, database world, when they really need to be data mining applications. Filters and Saved Searches are just stored procedures, in the end, and a highly watered down from at that. What I really need is a multi-dimensional, heuristic tool for analysing my mail, and presenting it to me so that I don't miss anything critical.
I don't actually mind seeing a bit of spam here and there, as long as I don't drop critical emails.
I think it would be a great idea to build a next generation communication tool that does this, combining e-mail, instant messaging and voice. Gmail is ofcourse, the best bet, and Google is surely on the right track by integrating Gtalk with it, but I have privacy concerns with Gmail.
Actually, frankly, Google is beginning to scare me. It is beginning to resemble too closely, the funny little guy you introduce to your friends, who quickly usurps centrestage, and makes your world suddenly unpredictable, and somewhat dependent on his whim. You wonder, "Have I created a saint or a sociopath?".
Hmmm...
What a lame title, but anyway, here goes...
Email clients are hitting their limits of scalability.
Now, I get almost a couple hundred small emails everyday, and keeping track of them is a nightmare.
Email traffic characteristics have fundamentally changed since I started working. Now they are almost instant messages, in form, mode of address, size and content. Most people seem to treat them as instant messages with more metadata tags and end-to-end archival built into the fabric.
I recently listened to the CEO of the company I work for mentioning that e-mail is a store and forward protocol, like physical mail, and that is the way he handles his email : read it once in the morning, once at lunch, and once in the evening, and don't look at it in between.
However, with disk, memory, processor and network bandwidth being what they are today, email is more like an instantaneous delivery system. And senders invariably expect recipients to respond instantaneously with at least an acknowledgement.
All of which basically makes my poor email client unable to cope. Now I have MacOS Tiger, so with Spotlight, my life is that much easier, but it only highlights how critical Desktop Search will be as an application in the next few years.
The trouble with mail clients is that they are still stuck in the 2-d, tabular, database world, when they really need to be data mining applications. Filters and Saved Searches are just stored procedures, in the end, and a highly watered down from at that. What I really need is a multi-dimensional, heuristic tool for analysing my mail, and presenting it to me so that I don't miss anything critical.
I don't actually mind seeing a bit of spam here and there, as long as I don't drop critical emails.
I think it would be a great idea to build a next generation communication tool that does this, combining e-mail, instant messaging and voice. Gmail is ofcourse, the best bet, and Google is surely on the right track by integrating Gtalk with it, but I have privacy concerns with Gmail.
Actually, frankly, Google is beginning to scare me. It is beginning to resemble too closely, the funny little guy you introduce to your friends, who quickly usurps centrestage, and makes your world suddenly unpredictable, and somewhat dependent on his whim. You wonder, "Have I created a saint or a sociopath?".
Hmmm...
Thursday, February 02, 2006
nein-nein-nein dept.
I have observed that the best employees, i.e. individual contributors, are those who always say "No.". By always negating everything, they put the onus on their managers to come up with irrefutable logic and nail down the specifications for tasks, so that they would not get no for an answer.
Unfortunately, such people are also not the best people to get along with.
However if you're looking to start a product company, hire only these naysayers as programmers. Optimisitc kids with stars in their eyes will overcommit themselves and be the bane of your scheduling endeavors.
I have observed that the best employees, i.e. individual contributors, are those who always say "No.". By always negating everything, they put the onus on their managers to come up with irrefutable logic and nail down the specifications for tasks, so that they would not get no for an answer.
Unfortunately, such people are also not the best people to get along with.
However if you're looking to start a product company, hire only these naysayers as programmers. Optimisitc kids with stars in their eyes will overcommit themselves and be the bane of your scheduling endeavors.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
two-movies dept.
I was visibly moved by Rang De Basanti. So much so that my wife had to restrain me from going out and doing something reallly stupid. When I calmed down after a dose of good old middle-class morality washed down with some excellent wine at the Swiss Cheese Garden, I finally saw through the sham, and now am back to writing code during the day, and kissing my powerbook goodnight every night.
C.S.Lewis wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. He was chums with JRR Tolkien, who wrote The Lord of The Rings. Both have been made into movies. I mean the books, of course. Actually, C.S.Lewis was also made into a movie once.
Narnia is unique, in its own way.
There are weird-looking creatures. There is a prophecy. The good guys have a mentor who dies and then is magically resurrected. A horn is sounded. There is a character who's very prim and proper and carries a quiver full of arrows. There is a battle at the end. There is a blonde guy reluctantly brandishing a shiny sword on a horse leading the good guys into said battle even though they are desperately outnumbered.
Only, he does not give a speech before doing this.
I really missed the speech.
I was visibly moved by Rang De Basanti. So much so that my wife had to restrain me from going out and doing something reallly stupid. When I calmed down after a dose of good old middle-class morality washed down with some excellent wine at the Swiss Cheese Garden, I finally saw through the sham, and now am back to writing code during the day, and kissing my powerbook goodnight every night.
C.S.Lewis wrote The Chronicles of Narnia. He was chums with JRR Tolkien, who wrote The Lord of The Rings. Both have been made into movies. I mean the books, of course. Actually, C.S.Lewis was also made into a movie once.
Narnia is unique, in its own way.
There are weird-looking creatures. There is a prophecy. The good guys have a mentor who dies and then is magically resurrected. A horn is sounded. There is a character who's very prim and proper and carries a quiver full of arrows. There is a battle at the end. There is a blonde guy reluctantly brandishing a shiny sword on a horse leading the good guys into said battle even though they are desperately outnumbered.
Only, he does not give a speech before doing this.
I really missed the speech.
Monday, January 09, 2006
सगळीकडे-मराठीच-मराठी dept.
विंदा करंदीकरांना ज्ञानपीठ पुरस्कार काल जाहीर झाला. हे एक बरेच झाले. सरकार-दरबारी मराठी माणूस आपला शिरकाव करू शकत नाही हा सिद्धांत अखेर खोटा ठरला. ज्ञानपीठ पुरस्कार हा देखिल आमच्या कंपनीच्या Employee of the Quarter Award सारखा rotationने दिला जातो हे ऐकून बरे वाटले.
शाळेत असतांना एकदा विंदांच्या कवितेवर once-more व पहिले बक्षीस मिळवले होते. त्या वेळेस अजाणतेपणामुळे त्यांचा उल्लेख 'कवयित्री विंदा' असा केल्याबद्दल, उशिरा का होईना, मी इथे दिलगिरी व्यक्त करू ईच्छीतो. विंदा ऋषीतुल्य वगैरे आहेत असे आज पेपरमधे आल्यामुळे ही एक गफलत ते माफ करतीलच अशी माझी मनापासून खात्री आहे.
माफ केले नाहीच, तर आम्ही त्यांचेच शब्द त्यांच्यावरच उलटवू:
विंदा करंदीकरांना ज्ञानपीठ पुरस्कार काल जाहीर झाला. हे एक बरेच झाले. सरकार-दरबारी मराठी माणूस आपला शिरकाव करू शकत नाही हा सिद्धांत अखेर खोटा ठरला. ज्ञानपीठ पुरस्कार हा देखिल आमच्या कंपनीच्या Employee of the Quarter Award सारखा rotationने दिला जातो हे ऐकून बरे वाटले.
शाळेत असतांना एकदा विंदांच्या कवितेवर once-more व पहिले बक्षीस मिळवले होते. त्या वेळेस अजाणतेपणामुळे त्यांचा उल्लेख 'कवयित्री विंदा' असा केल्याबद्दल, उशिरा का होईना, मी इथे दिलगिरी व्यक्त करू ईच्छीतो. विंदा ऋषीतुल्य वगैरे आहेत असे आज पेपरमधे आल्यामुळे ही एक गफलत ते माफ करतीलच अशी माझी मनापासून खात्री आहे.
माफ केले नाहीच, तर आम्ही त्यांचेच शब्द त्यांच्यावरच उलटवू:
घेता
देणार्याने देत जावे;
घेणार्याने घेत जावे.
हिरव्यापिवळ्या माळावरून
हिरवीपिवळी शाल घ्यावी,
सह्याद्रीच्या कड्याकडून
छातीसाठी ढाल घ्यावी.
वेड्यापिशा ढगाकडून
वेडेपिसे आकार घ्यावे;
रक्तामधल्या प्रश्नांसाठी
प्रुथ्वीकडून होकार घ्यावे.
उसळलेल्या दर्याकडून
पिसाळलेली आयाळ घ्यावी;
भरलेल्याश्या भीमेकडून
तुकोबाची माळ घ्यावी
देणार्याने देत जावे;
घेणार्याने घेत जावे;
घेता घेता एक दिवस
देणार्याचे हात घ्यावे !
Sunday, January 08, 2006
भाव(खाऊ)सरगम dept.
काल थोडासा ताप होता. तरी tickets काढले होते म्हणून ह्रदयनाथ मंगेशकरांच्या कार्यक्रमाला गेलो. या आधी दोनदा बघून झाला होता, पण पुण्यात नव्हे. एकदा बँकॅाक मधे, आणि एकदा नासिकला. बँकॅाकला वडीलांनी 'ती गेली तेंव्हा' ची फर्माईश केली होती. पंडीतजींनी ती स्वीकारली, पण "या कवितेचा अर्थ बाकीच्या लोकांना कळेल का?", असा टोमणा वर मारलाच.
वास्तवीक अशा खऊटपणाला काहीच कारण नव्हते. कदाचित आपण पुण्यात आहोत असे पळभर त्यांना वाटले असेल.
ही कविता माणिक गोडघाटे ऊर्फ कवी 'ग्रेस' यांची आहे. त्यांच्या कवितेवर अनेक लोक दुर्बोधतेचा आरोप करतात. वास्तवीक हा आरोप चुकीचा आहे. खरं म्हणजे, कष्ट केले तर त्यांच्या काही कवितांना अर्थ असावा असे भासते. ईतकेच काय, त्यात काही-काहींचा तर संदर्भांसकट अर्थ देखिल लागतो. त्यातलीच ही 'ती गेली तेंव्हा'. बाकीच्या कविता अगदीच NP-complete आहेत. प्रस्तुत कवितेचा अर्थ सांगणार्यास Millenium Prize देखिल सहज मिळू शकेल.
तरी, मैफल चांगलीच रंगली. ताप विसरलो. सकाळी २ वा. घरी परततांना हुडहुडी भरून ताप परत आला. आजचा दिवस झोपून आहे.
काल थोडासा ताप होता. तरी tickets काढले होते म्हणून ह्रदयनाथ मंगेशकरांच्या कार्यक्रमाला गेलो. या आधी दोनदा बघून झाला होता, पण पुण्यात नव्हे. एकदा बँकॅाक मधे, आणि एकदा नासिकला. बँकॅाकला वडीलांनी 'ती गेली तेंव्हा' ची फर्माईश केली होती. पंडीतजींनी ती स्वीकारली, पण "या कवितेचा अर्थ बाकीच्या लोकांना कळेल का?", असा टोमणा वर मारलाच.
वास्तवीक अशा खऊटपणाला काहीच कारण नव्हते. कदाचित आपण पुण्यात आहोत असे पळभर त्यांना वाटले असेल.
ही कविता माणिक गोडघाटे ऊर्फ कवी 'ग्रेस' यांची आहे. त्यांच्या कवितेवर अनेक लोक दुर्बोधतेचा आरोप करतात. वास्तवीक हा आरोप चुकीचा आहे. खरं म्हणजे, कष्ट केले तर त्यांच्या काही कवितांना अर्थ असावा असे भासते. ईतकेच काय, त्यात काही-काहींचा तर संदर्भांसकट अर्थ देखिल लागतो. त्यातलीच ही 'ती गेली तेंव्हा'. बाकीच्या कविता अगदीच NP-complete आहेत. प्रस्तुत कवितेचा अर्थ सांगणार्यास Millenium Prize देखिल सहज मिळू शकेल.
उखाणा
शुभ्र अस्थींच्या धुक्यांत
खोल दिठींतली वेणा
निळ्या आकाश-रेषेंत
जळे भगवी वासना.
पुढे मिटला काळोख --
झाली देऊळ पापणी;
आतां हळूच टाकीन
मऊ सशाचा उखाणा.
तरी, मैफल चांगलीच रंगली. ताप विसरलो. सकाळी २ वा. घरी परततांना हुडहुडी भरून ताप परत आला. आजचा दिवस झोपून आहे.
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